What Remains

In an undertow of air my skin
flutters off, flight of pale moths
gone to a moony forest
and the hunt of owls.

I swallow a stomach
of rattlesnakes, unfurl
lungs of fresh fern, lick
lichen from my fingertips.

Polar bears scramble
up my thigh
and at my breast
hungry whales are satisfied.

In the hollow of my neck
babies cradle and grow,
men and women learn peace
in the fold of my knees.

My peat moss tongue
forgets the taste of sadness,
soft as spring grass
my lips open.

Copyright © 2009 Juleta Severson-Baker All rights reserved
from FreeFall
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission